Family Matters

[Flamebird]

Whitevale was quite the town. The stone architecture was familiar and firm to Felicity Rhyolite, who called this place her home. A general of the town's military, the Brotherhood of Castigars, Felicity had responsibility to keep this haven in Corone safe. She had vowed to protect its leader, Shinsou Vaan Osiris, at any cost.

The clouds were grey and grim. They always were. Felicity looked up at the rolling clouds as she leaned against the granite wall of the barracks. Her weapons all hung to her heavy clothes, the young redhead was waiting for the next patrol. Being a general was honestly bland. The same meetings, patrols, and guardianship were good for her mental health, yes. However, Felicity was a free bird. A little variety never hurt. She sighed, crossing her arms as she looked down to the road. The citizens of Whitevale all strolled around on foot with ease. The colder weather was something everyone was used to now. As horses trudged along carrying passengers or hauling a load, the everyday business started to fade as Felicity zoned out. The same horse dung smell, the same clattering. Felicity had proven to be a fantastic fighter and general, but this job was boring! She did her best, swam through the mundane with pure effort, then spent the rest of her time trying to find something a little more exciting.

It was midday, however, and excitement had to wait. As much as Felicity grew weary of the schedules, she at least knew it meant trouble was staying out of Whitevale. As long as the peace was kept and citizens safe, she was satisfied with her tedious work. Besides, she still loved the patrols. She sighed, leaning against the bitterly cold wall. She waited for the rest of the patrol team.

She waited…

… she waited…

… just when she started hopelessly scanning the sky for birds, they came. It was a small patrol, made up by her commander Morloth and two other soldiers. The dark elf Morloth saluted his general as she lazily pushed herself off the wall. “General Rhyolite.”

Felicity straightened up, remembering the stricter personality she adopted. “Commander.” She nodded to the squad, “Let’s get going.”

The walk from the barracks to the stables was short. Whitevale had a massive stable at its main gate, where the horses were taken care of as well as the barren Corone climate allowed. The massive stables were constructed with sturdy wood and stone, with simplistic architecture that matched the rest of the town. Whitevale was it’s own city state in the divided country of Corone, yet it still owned some land beyond the walls that were regularly patrolled and protected. Felicity loved it out there. Inside the towering, thick walls she felt safe. However, outside was that sense of adventure she always craved. As she mounted her white mare, Chamomile, Felicity looked forward to the silent ride ahead.

Indeed, upon leaving the looming gates of her city, the patrol was met with rolling hills and crumbling road. The grass was finally starting to grow back as the ash clouds above loosened its grip. Yet, the ash rain made it hard for anything to purely grow. The farms at the other end of the walled city were failing. It took imported rations from the mainland of Althanas to keep the town properly fed. As the horses galloped, the pounding of hooves filled the air with a passive lull. Felicity was able to admire the ground as fresh patches of grass finally showed up again.

As usual, the patrol was quiet. There were no obvious threats to be seen, and the patrol shared few words as they covered all the checkpoints. Passing a dilapidated country house, Felicity heard one soldier ask another why they were not recycling the materials from the abandoned property.

Felicity looked up to the sky as Chamomile enjoyed the run. Felicity would be happy to report that everything was quiet and peaceful. Yet, she felt that familiar sadness. She enjoyed these rides, but she was also saddened by how eerily still it all was. As they passed some broken down oak fences, the melancholy was affirmed. Felicity’s eyes narrowed. Her teacher and leader, Lord Osiris, was safe within the gates of Whitevale. Out there, however, was another loved one. Gwenael was not yet back from his latest summoning to the Great Thayne? Was he alright?

He had become Felicity’s guide throughout life, suggesting to her where to go and what to do. Gwenael had convinced her to join the Brotherhood in the first place after Shinsou initially asked. Gwenael was a Lesser Thayne, one of the pantheon of lower status in their internal rankings. Felicity came from a line of Hromagh worshippers, though her uncle had grown distant from that faith and her cousin revered Trisgen instead. Felicity herself revered Gwenael, yet also considered him a strange kind of friend.

Where was he?

The silent landscape refused to answer.